Present is a present.

We are waiting for tomorrow 

But tomorrow never comes,

Our last breath is right now upon our heels 

Yet we still refuse to run.

86400 seconds 

and we are in another day,

All slipping through our fingers 

As we look the other way.

Days,weeks, months and years

Are made up of right now,

 A string of fleeting moments

 That we never can pin down,

 We gaze into the future

As though it’s where we are meant to be,

Always planning for that day 

When we can say that we are happy.

We spend so much looking forward 

That we may as well be blind,

Since we dont see until the very end 

All the things we have left behind.

Now I know its just a theory 

But I think I have worked out how,

The only way to happiness 

Is to love what we have now.


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